Two Hundred Fifty
by HalcyonSeasons
Summary: Jacob and Leah might as well keep a checklist for all the strange things that have happened to them since they were sixteen. Turning into werewolves? Check. Dealing with vampires? Check. Surviving a zombie outbreak? We'll see.
1. Chapter One

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight. I don't even know what I'd do with it._

* * *

_**Two Hundred Fifty**_

* * *

Chapter One

_Zero_

* * *

"Hey, Lee, where's the remote?"

"You're sitting on it."

"No, I'm not."

"Check under your ass, and it'll be right there."

"I swear to God, I'm not sitting on the remote."

"Just check. See what happens."

Jacob Black scoots over on the soft, worn out couch, a nice plate of dinner in hand and, _voilà_—there's the remote. Leah was right. She's always right. That's why he loves her so much.

His wife snickers. "Told ya."

Jacob lamely sticks his tongue out at her and finally picks up the remote in one hand to click on the television to the news—it's the only thing they really watch these days, aside from their baby's children programs. When Jacob and Leah Black aren't prompting their daughter to learn to count from a comical vampire on _Sesame Street_, they're watching the news and that's that. There are no other options.

Jacob and Leah never thought they'd marry each other, but here they are. They don't ive far from the houses they grew up in at all, just in a little home in La Push. They're not filthy rich, but they're not living off food stamps, either. After years of living in a world that just wasn't normal, they managed to push themselves out of it and eventually start over. That, they were—and still are—proud of.

And not only did they start over, but they made something out of it: after getting married, the currently twenty-seven- year-olds had a child. The entire story of it all was their little fairy tale—a fairy tale brought on from a completely different one, but still a fairy tale.

Leah, Jacob, and their eleven-month-old daughter Val (who will be one year old in just a few days) occupy the small yet comfortable living room. A fan propped against the window blows coolness into the air, which Leah is thankful for; she's been trying to keep her and Val from burning up in the mid-July heat all day. Jacob doesn't mind being too hot, but she does, and she'd rather not have her eleven-month-old melt like a popsicle.

Leah props Val's high chair in front of her and Jacob, and then sits down next to Jacob on the couch so she can feed her (or if she's lucky, get her to feed herself), and as she gets Val settled, she asks, "Jake, can you turn the TV up?"

He nods and does so. He and Leah tune into a news reporter in Port Angeles, at the scene of a recent homicide. The victim had been shot in the head, and this makes Leah sigh. _Things aren't getting better._

"This is the ninth time," she murmurs as she cuts a baked sweet potato into little pieces for Val to eat. The child's being grabby, which must mean she wants to feed herself this evening.

"Seriously?" Jacob asks, his eyes still focused on the television. This murder isn't anything new, but he's treating it like it is. It could mean something. It probably doesn't, but it could.

Watching her daughter eat her food as eleven-month-olds do, Leah nods. "Mm-hmm," she replies. "It's the ninth murder by gunshot around here in the last week. If one time's an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, then what's this?"

"It's all crap," Jacob replies, turning to her. "It is. And with the riots…" He groans. "Ugh, Lee, I know we don't live in or near a gated community, but…"

Leah looks over at him, their eyes meeting, and shakes her head. "Especially after the media blackout. Who thought we'd get a media blackout? Not me." She pauses, glancing at the television and then back at Jacob. "There've also been a few disease-based deaths," she tells him. "They've been saying stuff like leprosy, sleeping sickness, and rabies. Did you know that?"

"I didn't, actually, you media expert."

She snorts. "Well, I do, and you should, too."

"Leah, I do know what's going on," he lies. He doesn't really know anything, especially since he's seen nothing like it, but he doesn't want his wife to know that. At least, not now. She doesn't have to know his cluelessness right now, does she?

"Fucking zombies," she says.

His eyebrows rise and his eyes widen. "What?"

"Zom-bies," she enunciates.

Jacob turns down the volume on the television. "Okay, what made you think of that?"

Leah quickly stands up and passes Val in her high chair. She paces the area between the back of the couch and the kitchen, Jacob watching her hips sway (even if that's not entirely appropriate right now), and looks down at her hands as if they hold the ideas she's stringing together in her mind.

"Think with your head, Jake," she says. "Deaths by diseases that remind me _just a little too much _of zombies, a media blackout, murders by gunshot _just after_ the media blackout…and now they're not doing anything at all. Jacob, it's _zombies._ That's the thing. Isn't it obvious?"

She takes a quick backtrack, though. _Oh, God,_ she thinks. _But what if I'm just crazy and paranoid?_

She can't be. She just can't.

Jacob's eyes are still wide. "Well, uh, it's obvious that you watch too much television these days, and not just Val's shows." Val makes cooing noises at the sound of her own name.

Leah gives her trademark scowl. If Jake ever thought that he could get out of receiving that scowl by marrying her, then he was wrong. "Could you just believe me?" she asks. "I mean, doesn't it make sense?"

"But the media—,"

"_Screw _the media!" she yells. Then she turns to Val. "Sorry, baby." She looks at Jacob again. "The media isn't going to confirm any of this because they don't want us to know, especially around here. Nothing happens around Forks and La Push, and they want us to keep thinking that. It's like—like reverse conspiracy or something. I just—Jake, stop looking at me like I'm crazy. Don't do that."

His eyes haven't gone back to normal, and his mouth is hung open. "Lee, all that's not _completely_ obvious. Where did you even come up with that?"

"I read," she says. "I pay attention. It's not that hard. I mean, damn, Jake." Tears are starting to burn in her eyes as the awful truth starts to dawn, and that truth is that this entire situation is terrifying. That should at least be obvious to Jacob.

Leah puts her hands on her wide hips and stares at Jacob. His face has calmed down, and he stares back. She breathes calmly, but the slight chance that she could blow up on him is still possible. In a way. She can't—or chooses not to—phase anymore, but her tongue lashings can be just as hurtful.

"Don't you do your research?" she asks quietly. "Read your comic books? Seen any popular movie or show that's been out in the last five years? Jacob, it's not obvious to you right now, but it will be—and it is _scary as hell_."

"Okay, okay," he says, his hands up. "I believe you, Leah."

She narrows her eyes. "Oh, really now?"

He nods. "I do, babe. I do."

She walks back to the couch, mostly calm, and sits down next to Jacob, their thighs touching. Her back is as straight as a pole as he leans back. That's the way things have always been between them: her more serious and him more relaxed. It never meant that much until now.

"So," he sighs, his arm around her waist, "there are zombies." The word is really starting to bug him.

She stares blankly at the television. The news has moved on to weather reports for the rest of the week. The media doesn't care, especially in a community as small as this one—of course they don't. They'll be taking off in their helicopters tonight, only for La Push (and maybe even Forks) to be doomed. "There are zombies," she repeats, her voice low.

"I can't believe there are zombies."

"Believe it, Jacob."

"I do, Leah."

"Then act like it. The fairy tale's over. Long over."

He turns to her. "What are we gonna do, Lee?"

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"I don't know," she replies honestly, now looking at him. Her lower lip quivers, and it doesn't just scare him—it scares her, as well. Nothing was supposed to scare her anymore. Not after all that she went through. "I don't have a plan," she continues, "but I think I know someone who might."

"And who would that be?" he asks seriously, not mimicking or belittling her in the least bit. He'd probably be punched in the face for that.

"Sam," she says. "He always knows what to do. Well, sorta."

"Okay," Jacob replies fairly. "Want me to call him?"

She shakes her head no. "I'll do it," she says. "Can you do something for me, though?"

"Yeah, anything."

"Take out our savings and go to the store. The big one in Forks. Get everything we could possibly need for the next few weeks. Food—the nonperishable kind—and water and clothes and medicine and everything else. Okay?"

He's already up and on his way to the key rack by the garage. "You want me to take out _all_ our savings?" he calls to her. She hears him retrieve his keys, the metal jingling, and then the fabric of his jacket rubbing together as he gets it off the coat rack. She hates when he becomes so focused on something else that he gets up in the middle of their conversations to do that something else.

"All of it," she calls back. "Spend only a quarter, if you can. Just… just make good use of it, okay?"

"I've got you, Lee."

"Thanks, Jake. Oh, and one thing."

His rummaging pauses. "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Okay."

Leah turns to Val, who is almost done with her sweet potato, and smiles. It doesn't last long, however; it is then that Leah just remembers she forgot to get her juice, and retreats to the kitchen to get it.

Standing in the kitchen mixing water and fruit juice, Leah hears the hum of the opening garage door, Jacob's Volkswagen Rabbit pulling out, and the hum of the garage door closing. She sighs and tries to keep her emotions together, but it's not working.

She never anticipated on this happening. Not at all.

Leah would like to say she's sorry, something she doesn't say often, only because things like this don't happen often. They never happen, really. Not in real life. She would like to say she's sorry she let this happen, but she didn't let this happen. The one time she wants to say sorry is the one time it's not her fault. So, what does she do? How is she supposed to feel about that? There are only two sensible solutions at this time: first, she does not do anything, and second, she does not feel anything. Just like old times.

* * *

There are more people at the Thriftway store in Forks than Jacob thought there would be. He usually doesn't go out a little after five in the evening, so this could be normal, but he doubts it. A car is occupied in nearly every parking space in the lot, and if the matter weren't more serious, Jacob would think the entire town was having a meeting.

Upon getting out of the Rabbit and walking to the entrance of the store, Jacob sighs at his own forgetfulness. He has about twenty-eight hundred dollars in cash in his wallet, sitting fat and heavy in his pocket. He doesn't feel right about this. He has all of his and Leah's savings—every last one of them—in his pocket, and she told him to spend a quarter of it. Seven hundred dollars. He feels like a teenage boy again, wanting to buy the whole world with that much money when he knows he shouldn't. Or maybe that's not even his problem; maybe his problem is that he's afraid—_deathly_ afraid—of forgetting something. He should have made a list; he should have asked Leah about _particular_ things; he should have—

He sighs again.

He should have done a lot of things.

But he's not going back home.

He walks into the store with confidence. He grabs a cart, like he's done only a thousand times since he's been married to Leah for three years, and strolls into the store like it's an early Saturday morning and he's getting the groceries. _It's like no one even knows what's going on._

Or so he thinks.

The store is packed full. It makes Jacob feel like a sardine. He can feel everyone breathing and sweating and _oh_, there are too many people here, but at the same time, it's good that people know what's going on. Leah can't be the only genius around.

Jacob precariously goes through every aisle, twice, and picks out the things he, Leah, and Val will need. He specifically thinks of Val; he can admit she's his favorite person in the world.

Verbally, she's Val, but in his head, she's Valencia. He's only been asked a hundred times by friends and family alike, _Is 'Val' short for 'Valentine'? What about 'Valerie'?_ But no—his daughter's nickname is short for Valencia.

Leah mentioned that when they first decided on a name, when she was just about to give birth, literally, in the middle of her contractions, almost a year ago.

"_Isn't that weird?" she asked Jacob, trying to work on her breathing. They'd made a deal; he could name their first child if she could name their second, and it seemed to work. "I mean, what would we call her? Val?"_

"_Yeah, that's what I was thinking," he said, staring down in the baby name book he'd had his nose in since the second he found out his wife had gotten pregnant._

"_Everyone's going to think we named her 'Valerie.'" She made a face, either out of pain or her aversion for the name. "Or 'Valentine.'"_

"_Then we'll tell them her name's Valencia. It won't be that hard."_

_She rolled her eyes. "What is even the significance of that name? 'Valencia,' I mean."_

"_Strong," he said. "Healthy. Our baby's gonna have the name of a warrior, Lee, isn't that fantastic? And get this: it's Spanish."_

"_Nice," she said sarcastically._

_His face drooped. "Oh."_

"_It's not a bad name, Jake," she began apologetically. "It's just…"_

"_It's just what?"_

"_This baby needs to come out NOW."_

Jacob smiles to himself as he picks up every little thing he even considers for a second that his family will need. He can narrow it all down later.

It takes well over an hour to go through all the aisles—twice—and with so many people at the store, but once he's done, _he's done._ He's never been too fond of shopping, as much as he's done it.

He's in a long line—probably the longest line he's been in to date, aside from some at a fair or something—when he sees Seth Clearwater, Leah's younger brother, standing by the exit of the store. He's with his pregnant imprint and wife, Alaska. They also have a shopping cart, but Seth's staring off somewhere, totally unaware of everything else. Jacob makes a face at him, and then waves, but doesn't get his attention. Alaska smiles and waves back, though; she's always been just about as happy as Seth. It's a good thing he imprinted on her. Jacob then stops looking for a while, but when he looks up again, both Seth and Alaska are staring at him. Alaska's happiness left as soon as it came. The twenty-three-year-olds look much older, their faces grave and serious, yet Seth's more serious, somehow. They know, Jacob decides. They have to.

Seth and Alaska wait for Jacob to get out of the line with his cartful of mostly nonperishable groceries, along with clothes, medicine, and just about everything else that could be useful at a time like this. _Zombies,_ he thinks. _Wow._

Jacob finally approaches them and greets Seth with a brotherly hug, and then Alaska with one that's less rough. Her stomach is huge. Jacob chats with Alaska for a bit (and to be honest, she's the only imprint that he really likes), and then Alaska looks up at Seth. She says, "You should tell him. We don't have that much time." The last sentence is spoken in a lower voice, but still audible.

Seth looks back at her with a small smile. He can always do that. "Of course."

"How're ya doing?" Jacob asks him easily.

Seth shrugs. "All right," he replies. "How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good. Just, uh, getting ready for all this."

Seth laughs with his mouth, but not with his eyes. "It's not a bad word," he says. "You can say it. _Zombies._"

"That's just so weird," Jacob says.

"Hell yeah, it's weird," Seth agrees.

Jacob stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Now, what'd you wanna tell me?"

Seth looks uncomfortable for a moment. "Well, uh, I wanted to actually _give_ you something. Now's not the place or time to blurt it all out, I guess." Jacob waits, and then Seth retrieves a small spiral journal from his back pocket. He holds it out to Jacob, and Jacob grabs it.

"You're giving me a journal?" Jacob asks.

"Not just _a_ journal. It's _the_ journal."

"Is light gonna shine out of it when I open it?"

"Not funny."

"Humor is subjective."

"Just take the journal."

"All right, Seth, I've got it."

"Now go. Show it to Leah, but not to anyone else, all right?"

Jacob is silent. _Seth hasn't always been this shady, has he?_

"All right?" Seth asks again.

Jacob nods. "All right."

* * *

Jacob enters the house to find Leah cursing and muttering angry things to inanimate objects. She angrily flicks through the television channels, never settling on one, and when she does, it's only so she can pick up the telephone and angrily turn it off. It's a vicious process.

She groans loudly. "This. Is. Bull. Sh—"

"Hey," Jacob says, standing at the entrance of the living room. "I've got groceries."

"Yeah?" Leah asks.

"Yeah."

She gets up from the couch and walks with Jacob to the garage, where the Rabbit sits, half parked-in. The trunk and all the doors are open, and the car seems to be overflowing with items from the store.

"Wow," Leah says. "You really outdid yourself."

"Zombie outbreak, remember?" Jacob asks, his confidence boosted. "Gotta be prepared."

"Mmm-hmm."

Bringing the first load of groceries in, Jacob asks Leah what she was mad about when he got there.

"Sam is an _idiot_," she replies. "Who does he think he is?"

"What did he do?" Jacob wonders.

"It's not what he's doing," she says. "It's what he's _not_ doing, and it's a stupid move. His phone's disconnected."

"Are you serious?"

She nods. Her eyes are livid. "Yeah! His house phone _and_ his cell phone. I mean, I could've walked to his house, but why would _I_ leave Val here alone when some moron can't even keep his phones connected? I wouldn't do that, so I didn't. God, he's so dumb. He makes me sick. And I bet I'm not the only one trying to get a hold of him and Emily, either." She frowns and shakes her head back and forth.

"I'm sorry, Lee," Jacob says lamely.

"Don't be. _Sam_ should be the sorry one. Jeez, you can't depend on the guy for anything."

Jacob almost forgot the journal Seth gave him, so after bringing in all the plastic bags from the store, he sits down with Leah on the couch and takes out the journal from the deep pocket of his jeans.

"What's this?" Leah asks.

"Seth gave it to me. I don't know what's in it—,"

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"You read it."

"No, I didn't."

"Okay, then carry on."

And so he does. "I saw Seth and Alaska in the store earlier, and he gave me this. He was being really shady about it—I don't even know." He flips open the journal and sees that it's Seth's handwriting etched on the first page, which he should have expected; it's so sloppy he can barely read it.

"Can't read this kid's handwriting for crap," he mumbles, staring down at the paper. He barely comprehends a whole sentence when Leah asks for the journal, saying she's read his handwriting for years and it's like trying to read Russian.

She translates for Jacob:

"As you both may or may not know, there has been a zombie outbreak, which can quickly turn into a zombie apocalypse." Leah snorts. "The Cullens are still in Portland, working on a cure to the virus. The few times I visited them, Carlisle always seemed to be busy, and when I asked what was going on, they told me that Alice had had a vision of the future, and that a zombie apocalypse was a part of it. She confirmed the vision for me, and Carlisle has been working on a cure ever since, though he has only come up with a very premature vaccination that might be too strong for humans, but just right for wolves like us, and maybe even ex-wolves.

"I was told by the Cullens to come and receive the vaccination, two hundred fifty miles away from Forks, and I would go if it weren't for Alaska being so pregnant at the time. The Cullens can't come here, and we can't meet halfway. 'Safety reasons' was their excuse, though I think it's because Carlisle is still perfecting the vaccination. Anyway, because I can't go, I'm asking you and Leah to go for us. It's for the better. If you decide to go, leave as soon as possible. If not, stay where you are. I'll be at your house in two days to see if you've left or not. Make the right choice. Also, don't let anybody else see or hear this message; it belongs to you two."

Leah flips to the next page. All that's there are two words, still written in Seth's messy handwriting.

_Destroy this._

Leah looks up at Jacob, and there are only a thousand questions floating around in his mind. He decides not to ask them, though. Instead, he decides to believe Seth.

"Was that for real?" she asks, her voice soft.

Jacob nods. "That was for real."

"Portland," she sighs.

"Over two hundred fifty miles out."

There's a moment of dead silence between the two.

"Jake, I'm going to ask you to hear this in the least selfish way possible," she tells him. "So please, don't hear this selfishly. I…" Her brown eyes are glued to his. "I think I want you to go. You can do it."

He nods slowly. "I think I should, too, but…"

"But what?"

"You're gonna trust me to do this alone?"

"Of course."

"And you're gonna be fine _here_ alone?"

She nods solemnly. "I guess."

"Leah, be honest with me."

"I already am."

"Do you _want_ to go? Leave Val out of this for a minute."

"I do wanna go," she says. "Really. I'd go if we didn't have Val, but, uh—," she stumbles on her own words and he gives her a look. "You know what? I'm going. Okay, Jake? It's just two hundred fifty miles or something. We'll be fine." Her voice shakes on the last sentence and she doesn't trust what she said, but he believes her.

Her brings his hand to hers and laces their fingers together. "Are we gonna do this together?" he asks.

She gives him a squeeze and smiles a little, not because she wants to, but because tension has to be relieved. "There's no other way to do it, Jake. Of course I'm going."

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_Welcome._

_I'm having an experimental phase right now. It makes me feel thirteen again. And I know this story may be a bit confusing now, but stick with me and you'll be all right._

_So this is my new story, "Two Hundred Fifty." It's a Blackwater/pack story, and I'm really not sure where this idea came from. I have always wanted to try something of the zombie genre, though, and I hope this goes well. I'm still sort of iffy about this._

_Also, I had the chapter beta-read by two lovely people from Project Team Beta! SecretlySeverus and Starpower31 whipped. My. Ass. (I'm so glad you guys didn't have to see the first version of this.)_

_Chapter two should be posted soon, but I have to ask. What do you think? Reviews are to writers as gas is to cars._

_Much love,_

_HalcyonSeasons_


	2. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimer: **__Anything you recognize isn't mine._

Chapter Two

_Fifty_

* * *

"A _butter_ knife?" Leah asks Jacob as he stuffs one into a bag. "What are we gonna do with a _butter _knife?"

"Have ourselves a fine piece of toast with it," he responds sarcastically. "No, Lee, we're gonna kill some zombies. What else?"

"Even _I_ know a butter knife won't do anything," she says fairly.

He shrugs. "You never know."

They're silent for a moment until she sighs. "Jake, I really don't think we're gonna come across too many zombies, if any," she quickly admits. "At least, not face-to-face. We might not even have to get out of the car."

"Don't tell me you're going all soft on me!" he replies. He sets the next knife he means to pack down on their bed, and looks down on her. "Please, Leah, I need you to be committed to this, too."

"I am," she assures him. "Really. I just—"

"You just what?"

She puts her hand on his muscular bicep. "I just don't want to go about this too much. It's simpler than I made it out to be. I guess I was just freaking out last night, okay? Maybe it was the heat getting to me or—"

His eyes are glued to hers. "Do you want to do this?" he asks, his voice low. "Because you don't have to."

She nods. "I will," she tells him, and then repeats, louder, "I will."

"Okay, Leah." He doesn't want to believe her, but what he wants doesn't matter right now.

* * *

After packing the Rabbit with just about everything (even as they're about to embark on a trip that isn't so long) and putting Val in the backseat, Jacob and Leah are ready to head to Portland. Well, almost. They're going to stop by Charlie and Sue Swan's house to ask for guns. They can't tell them where they're going, but they can certainly hope to get lucky. That's Leah's mother and stepfather, after all; the least they can do is ask, even if they didn't call first.

Charlie and Sue were married before Jacob and Leah were, and have lived in his house since then. The Cullens also left Charlie cold without a word of Bella's well-being; he's still waiting for her to come home, healthy and human. He shouldn't have much faith, though, and maybe he already knows that.

Pulling out of the garage, Jacob almost can't believe he's still doing this. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since he read the letter from Seth, though. Surely, he's allowed to still be in a daze, isn't he?

_Portland,_ he thinks. _I never thought they would stay as close as Portland._

Neither Jacob nor Leah has seen the Cullens in years. Jacob made a point not to, and Leah followed. Jacob was heartbroken; how else was he supposed to be after seeing the first girl he ever loved _die_ right in front of him? He would have stuck around—maybe he _should_ have stuck around—but he didn't. That night, after seeing her die for a sick abomination of a child, he left. The Cullens also left, which made more sense. He just never thought they would stay as close to Forks as Portland.

Thinking about Bella doesn't just make Jacob sad; it pisses him off. Even though he's avoided thinking about it for years, every time he _does_ think about it, it pisses him off. It's not even the kind of pissing off that has him thinking, _Wow, I'm pissed off._ It is so much more than that. It's not as bad as him about to phase, but it's bad. _God, she is—was, Jacob, she's gone now, it's past tense—so stupid,_ he thinks. _I hate her. I hate her so much. Present tense. I really hate her. I still hate her._

His hands clench the steering wheel of the Rabbit, and Leah notices. "Are you okay?" she asks.

His grip loosens. "Yeah," he says weakly. He clears his throat and repeats, "Yeah. You?"

Both of their eyes are focused on the road to Charlie and Sue's house. Leah nods. "Mm-hmm."

Jacob's mood lightens and he widens his eyes and gasps. "Holy crap!" he bellows.

Leah's eyes quickly scan the road. "What?" she asks sharply. "What is it?"

"Zombie!"

"Jake, _where?_"

He grins. "Kidding."

She purses her lips at his immaturity. On other days—_normal_ days—his humor would only be slightly stupid. Today, they're overly stupid. "You need to stop," she tells him.

"All right, sorry," he replies. He looks in the rearview mirror before making a right turn to see a gray pickup truck on his tail. Jacob recognizes the driver as Paul Lahote, and Paul mouths, _Pull over._ Reluctant, Jacob does so and Paul parks on the shoulder behind them.

Leah groans loudly. "Really, Jake?" she asks.

"Calm down," Jacob tells her. "It'll only take a second."

Paul walks over to Jacob's window like he's a cop, and Jacob rolls his window down. "Yeah?" he asks.

"Well, if it isn't for Jacob and Leah Black," Paul says, leaning forward and staring at the Leah and Jacob with a mischievous smile. He then peers behind them and at the backseat. "Wow, and my little niece, too," he remarks as if he's seeing her Valencia for the first time.

"You've already seen Valencia," Leah says. "You tried to give her hot sauce when she was three months old."

"It was an accident, I swear!" Paul says defensively.

"What do you want, Paul?" Jacob asks with a roll of his eyes. "We're kinda in a rush."

Paul cuts to the chase. "I wanna know where you guys are headed. I mean, that's an awful lot of stuff in the back for a trip to the store or something, with the zombies and all."

Jacob's mouth opens to tell Paul where he, Leah, and Valencia are going, but Leah speaks up quicker. "What's it to you?" she asks.

Paul gives one of his classic sly smiles, the kind that the entire pack's been used to since they were little. "Aw, you don't have to be like that, sis," he tells Leah. "I just wanna know where you guys are going. I won't tell anyone. I promise. I just wanna know."

Both Jacob and Leah are silent.

"But look here," Paul says. "I'll make you guys an offer you can't refuse."

Leah bites her lower lip and looks to Jacob; he looks just as unsure.

"What are you offering?" she asks Paul.

"I don't know, ah…" He falters like he's trying to grab a proposition out of thin air. "Guns," he finally says.

Leah raises an eyebrow.

"And ammo," Paul confirms. "I can even hook you up with free gas, if you want. Wherever you're going, you're probably gonna need it."

_Crap_, Leah thinks. _He's right._ "Fine," she says without looking to Jacob for approval. She doesn't need it. "We're going to Portland," she admits, "and we're going to see the Cullens."

Paul doesn't look pleased; his face remains the same, which must mean he's expecting more.

"Carlisle has created a vaccination," Leah concludes.

"That's it?" Paul asks.

"That's it," Jacob says. "Now, where's our half?"

"Easy there." The sly smile is back on Paul's face. "What can you do with a gun you don't even know how to use, Jake? We're going to Sam's. You guys have got time, right?"

Leah sighs dramatically. "Plenty of it," she tells him reluctantly.

Paul's smile has turned into a grin. "Let's go, then. I'll see you guys there." He then turns around and goes back to his truck. It zooms past the Rabbit (albeit, much faster than it should), and Jacob starts following it down the familiar path to Sam and Emily's house. He and Leah don't exchange any words; any words spoken would be unnecessary.

* * *

Paul arrives at Sam Uley and Emily Young's home before Jacob and Leah do. There are a handful of cars parked outside of the house in La Push, and before they know it, Jacob and Leah are soon faced with the disbanded wolf pack and company. Because there isn't enough room in the house, everyone retreats outside. There are even some children, who Jacob and Leah have met a few times, but it's incoherent as to why they're here, too.

Standing in the backyard, Jacob tries to count the amount of people he's grown up with, who look more and more aged every time he sees them, the group that he forgot about in the end, but Sam immediately gets to business. The pack and their guests circle around him, and he stands in the middle of the backyard with confidence.

Before he opens his mouth, Jacob opens his. "We'd love to stay for your little party," he tells Sam, "but Leah and I are only here to get what we need and go."

Sam gives a smile—not a genuine one—and gestures to Paul. "We already know what's going on," he tells Jacob. "Your trip to Portland will do us all a favor."

Jacob looks to Paul furiously. "You told him?" he demands. Paul doesn't even look sorry; he just stuffs his hands into his pants' pockets and shrugs.

"You promised not to!" Jacob yells. "I gave you my word!" He only advances a meter towards Paul, but that's all it takes. He's pinned under Sam in half a second, the wet grass beneath him, and a knife pointed at his throat. Leah gasps; she's also the only person who makes a sound at all.

"What the hell!?" Jacob pants in a choked voice. His face grows red and he seriously considers his last words to Leah and Valencia before he gets his throat slit for doing absolutely nothing.

Sam's black eyes are so focused on Jacob's that there is no other place to look. "You can't afford to be mad at Paul right now," he says, his voice deeper and more grave than other times. He gets off of Jacob and takes the knife away from his throat, only to stuff it into his back pocket.

Jacob gets back up, blades of grass scattered across the back of his shirt. "Was that necessary, Sam?" he asks, staring hard at the man he used to look up to. _Who is he to do that?_

"'Course it was," Sam replies. "Especially when you've got a jackass on your hands."

"Sam, what are you even _doing_?" Leah asks. Valencia is in her arms, balanced on her hip, and Leah refuses to let her grip slip, even just a little. If she loses her grip on Valencia, then she'll have nothing.

"I'm trying to save us," Sam says. "You need my help."

"No, we don't," Leah replies. "We're going to Portland, just like Seth told us to." Seth is across the circle from his sister, and he just hangs his head, as if he's ashamed of the information he told. Leah can read him like a book; something must be wrong. She's not going to address him now, though. It would be useless.

"We're going to Portland," she repeats, "to get the vaccination from Carlisle Cullen. That's it, Sam. Me, Jake, and Val didn't come here to play games or almost be stabbed in the throat."

"We're not helping the Cullens," Sam tells her.

"_You're_ not helping the Cul—,"

"You and Jacob are with us now."

"Who are _you_ to tell _us_ what we're doing?" she demands, her voice louder than it should be. "We've made up our minds."

"Let me tell you something, Leah," Sam says, staring down at her. Valencia is turned away from him, curling closer to her mother.

"Go on, Sam," Leah prompts him, already having enough of his crap.

"The Cullens are only making things worse," he informs her. His eyes go to Jacob's. "There's no such thing as a cure, okay? There's no remedy or vaccination to this—this _mess_."

Jacob and Leah are silent. Jacob just nods.

"We're not going to reunite with the Cullens," Sam continues. "We're going to take them down. We're going to kill them. The letter Seth gave you was fake. Carlisle didn't say anything at all; none of them know we're coming. Seth's been spying on them ever since the entire zombie thing started in Portland, and we don't trust the Cullens anymore. It's not even just me, either; none of us trust them. They're up to know good. I'm almost positive of it."

"So the letter was fake?" Leah asks for clarification. "All of it was fake?"

"All of it," Sam says. He turns around to Seth. "Wasn't it?"

Seth takes a few steps forward from his part of the circle and looks genuinely apologetic toward Leah and Jacob. "I'm sorry, guys," he tells them. "Really. But yeah, it was fake."

Leah sneers at him. "At least _that_ makes sense," she says. "Your reasoning's crap, and only a dumbass like _you_ would do something as stupid as spy on _vampires_, for crying out loud." She shakes her head at him and he sulks.

Jacob's eyes go over the members of the circle, and he sees that everybody but Quil Ateara, his best friend, is here—even some of the imprints. Jacob does a once-over, just to make sure he doesn't have any blind spots, and feels his mood drop even further. No Quil in sight. Just everyone else and a failed alpha trying to lead again. It pisses Jacob off. He doesn't want to admit that Sam truly should be leading the group, but he feels as if it's in his blood to lead, and it is. It's always been in his blood. He has never felt as powerless as he does now.

And maybe it's just time to regain some of that power.

He may have left the pack, he admits, but that doesn't mean he isn't the true leader anymore.

"Are we working against the vamps or the zombies?" he wonders aloud.

"Both," Sam replies automatically.

"Then why can't we just take the zombies down first?" Jake asks, more confident in his question. "The bloodsuckers are immortal, so why aren't we?"

"Do you _know_ what happens when we get bitten?" It's obviously a rhetorical question, but Jacob just shrugs his shoulders.

"It's not like with a vampire," Sam says. "It's worse. We burn and burn _and burn_, but the venom just kills us. With the infection, we turn into one of them. That's it."

Jacob's eyebrows furrow. "How do you know?"

Sam's tone is blunt. "Quil was turned just last week. He came back from Portland with Seth after he was bitten in the leg. Seth didn't want to put him down that night, so I did. It wasn't pretty."

_So that's where he is._

Tears begin to sting in both Jacob's and Leah's eyes. A single tear rolls down Leah's face, but she angrily wipes it away. She's supposed to be stronger than this, and she hates herself for it. It's almost automatic. Instinctive.

Guilt begins to way down on Jacob's shoulders. He didn't even just leave the pack when he stopped phasing and settled down; he left _family._ Leah's guilt works from the inside out. How could they have so selfishly ignore their old lives to start new ones? That wasn't how things were supposed to work. Sue Clearwater hadn't ignored _her_ family when she got married; what made Leah so determined to ignore hers?

"I'm sor—," Leah begins, but Sam interrupts her.

"Don't be. It's far too late to be sorry."

And with that, Leah isn't sorry. She's not sorry at all.

* * *

"You're going to have to learn how to use weapons," Sam declares to the group. "All of you. But without rules, your weapons and their skills are going to be useless."

From there, he goes over the rules. They're typical ones: use a weapon only if you have to; melee weapons are preferred; everyone has to learn how to use a gun; don't use your weapon on anyone in the group, no matter how much they may piss you off; don't piss people off; etc.

The last rule Sam gives the group, however, is the most simple. It's also the most important.

"This is the one rule you cannot forget," Sam says. "Don't phase. Ever. You're definitely dead if you do."

Some of the pack members who still do phase on a weekly basis look angry; others look upset. Paul looks angry and upset at the same time. "What!?" he shouts. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of us being _us_?"

"We're not wolves right now, Paul," Sam says. "Unless you want to die, it's no more fur. No more fur and no more fangs. It's all knives and bullets until we get to Portland, okay?"

Paul just mutters under his breath, looking as discouraged as a little kid being denied a cookie before dinner. Sam doesn't expect an "okay" back, so he doesn't wait for one.

Jacob takes one look at Leah's face and wants to cry again. She's weaker than she thought—or than they both thought, but he's not going to be the one to get mad about it. He asks to hold Valencia, and Leah just shakes her head. Letting her daughter go will be the last thing she does.

"Now," Sam says loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Guns."

* * *

Leah takes Valencia inside the house while Jacob and everyone else learn how to use guns. Emily Young, Leah's cousin, follows her.

"I don't know why Sam made me listen to his stupid lecture," she complains as soon as they're in the house. "I'm staying home with the kids, anyway."

Leah makes her way to the living room, but Emily tells her that there will be no place to sit, and she's right. Occupying both the couch and the loveseat are Hayden and Hunter, Emily's twin sons. Emily still wears the engagement ring she's had for over ten years, and she's constantly said she and Sam are just "waiting for the right time" to get married. If two eight-year-old kids isn't a hint that it's been enough time, then they're never going to find it.

Also inhabiting the couches are Claire, Quil's imprint and Emily's niece; Jared and Kim Cameron's seven-year-old son, Trent; and the very pregnant Alaska Clearwater, Leah's sister-in-law. A cartoon is playing on the television, and Alaska pays so much attention it's like she's doing research. "Hey," Leah calls to her. Alaska turns for a second, waves, and brings her devotion back to the television.

"You can put Val down on the carpet," Emily tells Leah, who still holds her daughter with all her might against her hip. "It won't bite her."

Leah laughs a little and sets Val down onto the carpet. She watches her daughter crawl around, and the other kids do as well, utterly fascinated with the fact that there are human beings smaller than they are. Alaska looks at Leah again and gives her a look as to say, _I've got you._

Emily and Leah make their way to sit down at the kitchen table, and Emily offers Leah a drink, which she politely refuses. She could never finish it, with all those gunshots outside. She'd shake her glass too much; the tables' placemats would drink more than her.

"I hate guns," Leah mutters.

Emily nods in understanding. "Uh-huh. I'm not even going to Portland, so there's no way I'm going to listen to the worst of _that_—"she gestures to the backyard—"if I don't have to. Are you going to Portland?"

"Yeah," Leah replies. "I guess I can use a knife if I have to, right?"

Emily looks skeptical for a moment, but then she feigns a smile. "Right." Leah's always loved—and hated—that about her cousin: she always agrees with her, for the most part.

"Who's going, altogether?" Leah wonders.

Emily beings to count on her fingers. "Sam, Jared, Kim—she's a total badass now—Embry, Collin, Brady, Paul, Rachel, Jake, and you. So, ten."

"Make that eleven," Leah revises. "Valencia's coming, too."

Emily's eyes widen. "_Really_?"

"It's a short trip."

"Not the way Sam's gonna go about it."

Leah sighs. "Val's still going."

"Are you sure you don't want me to watch her?"

"I'm sure. I just… I just always want her to be with me, you know? It's like I've just given birth—like, _again_—and I can't let her out of my sight. Do you get me?"

Emily nods. "I get you." And she does; Leah believes her.

"Who's staying?" Leah wonders.

"Just seven of us: me, my boys, Kim's kid, Seth, Alaska, and Claire. Looks like we'll be watching _Spongebob Squarepants _for a while."

Leah laughs, and Emily does, too. Neither of them knows why they're laughing; all they know is that it feels natural.

* * *

The Portland group leaves as soon as they're set, which is just at twilight. Paul and Rachel drive in Paul's truck; Sam, Jared, Kim, Collin, Brady, Jacob, Leah, and Val take Sam's van; and they all do stop at Jacob's house for Jacob's motorcycle, in case he wants to drive it, but for some reason, he can't. Jacob doesn't want to touch his motorcycle. Embry drives it instead; he's the bravest—but not the cockiest—out of everyone.

As the sun sets, Paul follows Embry as Sam follows Paul, and Leah feels the need to say goodbye, though that's not the right word to use. How do you say goodbye when everything you need is already with you?

The group stops by Jacob's old house for his father, Billy Black, but a note taped to the door states that he's away, "with family." Jacob can only pray for his frail father to be okay, and he doesn't pray very often.

The group stops again at Charlie and Sue's house, the house that Bella lived in, to find out that they're gone, too. Sam knew they knew his plan, but he didn't know they would follow it. The note on their door is more detailed than Billy's, even as it's not lengthy:

_We're heading for Portland as well. Stop for a few hours every fifty miles. We'll catch up with you guys. We promise._

_Be careful__,_

_Sue and Charlie._

Leah's hope is restored, but not by very much; what if they never even find each other at the right places? What if the timing is all wrong?

The last stop until they drive fifty miles is at a gas station in Forks. Portland is only two hundred fifty miles away from here, and as everyone gets more food and supplies "just in case," Jacob, Leah, and Val stay in the van. They don't exchange words; it's been a wordless day.

A wordless day turns into fifty miles of silence between them. They're driven along one open road; Sam tells them it's safer than the freeway.

The silence sustains until the vehicles stop at a grocery store in what looks and feels like the middle of nowhere. There hasn't been a side of the undead since, and as optimistic as everyone might be, they just may not run into zombies at all.

Exiting the van and approaching the grocery store, Jacob's hand brushes Leah's. He looks down at her and Val, who is in her arms sleeping. "I love you guys," he says.

Leah's walking slows and her heart pounds like it used to when she and Jacob first started dating. "We love you, too," she replies.

Jacob and Leah's lips meet for brief moment until Paul embarrasses them—because when will he ever not embarrass them?—and they decide to go into the store at the same pace as everybody else. Their own pace doesn't matter anymore; this is something way larger than just them.

* * *

_**A/N: **__I'm a bitch for updating this so late, but that's school for ya. If school isn't a place to sleep, then home shouldn't be a place for work. Someone should tell that to the president._

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And there will be more coming soon! (I mean it.)_

_Give me that thing that I love (aka reviews please), and always, always take care and remain the awesome people you are,_

_HalcyonSeasons (formerly MusicTwilightLove, if you didn't know)_


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